


Over the Fault Line

by ParadoxR



Series: Hit the Sky [8]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship, Retirement, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3181106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxR/pseuds/ParadoxR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d lost her in an ambush, let her get captured, beaten, and strip searched, and then run her into the ground for two days to get them off some godforsaken planet. Oh, and then electrocuted her, bit her hand, shoved her through a ravine, and hurled her unconscious body across the galaxy. <em>Would you let me tie down your freaking bike?</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Previously, on SG-1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An optional mashup of _52nd Hour_ , my “Children of the Gods” saga where they flee Chulak and get stranded on an unknown planet. The current fic takes place the day after Sam and Jack get home. Many thanks to my beta, bethanyactually.

**10 February, 1997 – Not-Yet-SGC Briefing Room**

“I prefer to choose my own team, General.”

“You _are_ returning from this mission, Colonel, and you’re going to need Carter for it.”

“Colonel, with all due respect, just because my reproductive organs are on the inside rather than the outside doesn’t mean I can’t handle whatever you can handle.”

“Memorizing my report is not experience, _Doctor_ —”

“Sir, I wouldn’t be assigned to this mission if you didn’t need my experience _._ ”

 

**11-12 February 1997 – Chulak Jailbreak**

_Goddammit._ She looks like hell. “Lie still, Captain.”

“Don’t touch me.” Sam bolts to her feet. “I’m fine.” She grabs him. “How do we get next to the guards, sir?”

Jack grits his teeth and pushes her hands off quietly. “First, _Captain_ , we decide why we’d _ever want to do that._ ”

Her M9 slides down his leg to settle on the cuff of his boot.

 

**13 February 1997 – Unknown Planet’s Campsite**

The colonel dismisses her, but Sam stays put. “Daniel and Teal’c _should_ go to the town, sir. It’s a lead, and if they don’t take it, we might not get home.” She breathes. “And I need to find some equipment to fix the DHD.”

“Whaddya you need, Captain?” Jack’s successfully ignoring Lou’s ‘attagirl’ look.

She stutters. The colonel’s not a big fan of her explanations.

Jack slowly lets his grimace soften. He really just needs it to be his fault if this is futile. Or deadly.

“…I know you’re worried about the weight, but Daniel says they should know how to smelt. They could’ve taken all the wheeled vehicles though, or those might’ve rotted. Teal’c doesn’t know the age, and I’m not sure about migration out here. It seems temperate continental and there are no obvious signs of flooding, but of course it’s alien—”

Jack blinks. “Captain.” _Did she really get that much out of Daniel while I briefed Charlie this morning?_

“Sorry.” Sam offers. “I know it’s not a great risk assessment. I’m not really an engineer.”

 _You’re not what?_ “Captain, there are _many_ things that you are not.” Especially out here. “But ‘engineer’ isn’t one of them.”

His captain smiles at him again. She ought to stop doing that.

 

**13 February 1997 – Unknown Planet’s Ghost Town**

“So, Captain, welcome to Emerald City.”

 _Uh, huh?_ Sam gives the grin freely, despite how un-O’Neill-like that was. _He’s certainly…different out here._ At least, he hasn’t tried to nuke anything else yet, and he appears to almost value her opinion. It’s a rather weird one-eighty.

“Captain?” Jack asks over her shoulder. _Stop standing so close to her._

She blinks up from her new equations. “We need to cut that.” She gestures at the copper sheet and worries her jaw. “I don’t know how…”

“No problem.” Jack hefts it and cocks her a grin.

Yes, this is a very weird one-eighty from the colonel who destroyed Project Giza. Not that Sam’s about to point that out. “That should give us enough for a multilayer capacitor that achieves the locking protocol’s waveforms.”

Something tugs upward at Jack’s mouth. It’s a weird expression for him around words like ‘multilayer capacitor’ and ‘waveforms’. _She’s pretty great for a dead, dirty lobster, isn’t she?_ A dead, beaten, burnt, dirty, exhausted lobster. _You’re going to run her into the ground._ Jack just hopes that lets her hate him from Earth rather than stranded forever on this godforsaken rock.

 

**14 February – Unknown Planet’s Riverbank**

“What happened?” Sam blinks dazedly at owner of the arm around her.

“You went into shock.” Jack offers calmly. _It’s my fault._ Her bruised form is still shaking against him. “How ya feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Sam braces against the bank of the alien stream.

 _Captain, why would I want an answer like ‘fine’?_ Jack sighs and he helps her drink a little. “We’ll be home soon.” He’s too old for this crap. _And you are way too old for this rookie._

“Um.” Sam swallows painfully.

“Yes?” She’s scared. Jack manages not to rub her shoulder again.

Sam doesn’t lean into it. _You’re going to piss him off._ “About that. I just, I don’t want to seem overconfident here. The DHD…I think I understand its functionality, sort of, but…”

Jack finds a smile. “But trying to rebuild a broken alien telephone with stuff out of an Iron Age ghost town is completely batshit?” She blinks at him. He sighs. “I know, Sam.” He doesn’t let go.

 

**14 February 1997 – Unknown Planet’s Stargate**

Carter’s blabbering again about however this is supposed to work.

Jack squints at her. Not stares. She sounds nervous. _So help her. _It’s not the captain’s fault she’s…nice. _The word is ‘attractive’, Jack. Think it; you’re a big boy._

Not that it matters. She must have a boyfriend. _Because she’s a catch. …Yeah, she’s also your subordinate. _He almost screams it to himself as he turns away.

Then a chevron locks.

“Haha, yeah!” Lou gives her another high-five. Daniel bolts awake next to the DHD.

Jack, for his part, grins like an idiot. His captain is leaning back almost blissfully. He has the insane urge to hug her.

Daniel does.

_Lucky bastard._

…

“I can only get six chevrons.” It falls like a guillotine around her. One hour and thirty-three minutes.

Jack stays by her side and offers a conspiratorial whisper. “So how far is six-sevenths of the way home?” Odd, that sounded exactly as gut-wrenching out loud as it did in his head. His jokes aren’t usually like that.

Sam bursts out laughing. She needs it desperately, and she could almost hug the colonel. _An hour left and you’re laughing like a lunatic._ That must be reassuring.

Jack bumps her shoulder as Lou and Charlie start chuckling.

…

Jack walks up behind her, trying not to seethe. “Carter…” He’s ice cold. “Did you _detonate_ the camp’s C4?” _And you’re blaming the rain for this collapse?_

Sam nods. She’s almost reimmersed in the DHD, but the hate in his voice makes her blood freeze.

“ _Why?_ ”

“I had to get Teal’c out of the Gate.” She forces her voice steady.

Jack blinks. And tries not to be dumbstruck. “You sunk the floor.” It’s a smile he hasn’t found in years. He claps her shoulder. Too hard, she’s still badly beaten. It’s all he has time for.

The captain smiles anyway.

…

Sam coughs but doesn’t pause her rock-breaking. “There’s an exotic gravitational gradient on matter transitioning through the wormhole.”

“Captain!” _Oops._

 _Oops._ “I didn’t get to test what happens with the Gate horizontal.”

Jack strains to clear another rock with Charlie. _Now do you get why the geeks were supposed to go first?_ “Solution, Captain.”

“Deal with it.” Sam’s surprised at her own delivery. It’s what she’s got.

He moves another rock. “Okay then.” He’s good with simple.


	2. Technically, It's Not

Sam swallows nervously and glances at the lobby entrance. Of course, now she’s tired. She manages to set down the bike’s kickstand and scrubs her hands on her jeans. Everything hurts. _You should’ve taken a taxi._ Another yawn pulls at a bandage.

She really shouldn’t be here.

What does she even expect the colonel to do? Say, ‘Gosh, you’re so right, Captain. I was an idiot last year. I’m really not the kind of guy who nukes galaxies I don’t understand and then _lies_ about it. I have an excellent reason for losing my mind. _Please_ come in and forgive me.’

She fidgets with her bandages. _And are you upset because he’s a jerk or because you really would forgive him?_ Not that he’d ever ask.

He’s probably not even here anymore. She’d actually slept, and waited until almost 1300 to ask Kawalsky where he was staying. Sam watches the ‘8’ in Motel Super 8 blink out.

Yes, she might as well leave it until Monday. It wasn’t that bad.

    

_“You’re quitting?”_

    

_“Retiring, Captain. That’s what retirees do when they retire. Again.”_

    

_“Sir, we’re at war!”_

    

_“I know that, Captain.”_

    

_“Dammit, Colonel! What’re you running from?!”_

    

_“Captain Carter.” Beat. “Dismissed.”_

Yeah, wasn’t that bad at all. She kicks herself for the twentieth time in as many hours.

Not that it’s anything compared to what he did. At least she didn’t roll into a fifteen-year-long project, not even look up the names of the department heads, ignore all signs that the galaxy is a complicated place, set off a _nuclear bomb_ , and then not even show her team a _picture_ of the DHD when she got back. She didn’t lie about the Abydos Gate, DHD and staff weapons; effectively kill Project Giza; cost dozens of people their jobs; and set galactic exploration back by a year directly after she pissed off a bunch of sadistic aliens. _She’s_ not the reason they’re headed to Earth, and she’s not the reason four young airmen lost their lives guarding a ‘useless’ ring. She’s not the reason an _alien god-king_ abducted a junior member of the US Air Force.

No, she’s not.

_So why do you even want to reconcile?_ Who cares? He’ll be a consultant for a couple months and then disappear again. No command, no leadership. Certainly not her CO. Which is exactly what she wants, right? _Except that you don’t want him to leave._ The colonel who can’t equate ‘destroy alien god-king mothership’ with ‘create potentially dangerous power vacuum’.

Basically, she’s an idiot.

_Would you go in there and apologize before he decides to report you for insubordination?_

Right. Sam’s already made the drive. She can’t just leave. It’s too late now. _Technically, it’s not._


	3. That’d Be Ridiculous

It starts to snow as Sam weaves her way through the corridors. Just a dusting. It’s bright, peaceful. _When will Apophis get here?_

And now she’s about to knock on a full colonel’s private door. His private _hotel room_ door. And apologize, in a vain attempt to get a terrible CO to apologize for a mess he made a year ago. An impossible apology that she wants for literally no reason.

It’s not like she’d started to like with him on Chulak. _That’d be ridiculous._

Sam blows out a breath.

 

Jack’s going to kick down his door if whoever’s standing outside doesn’t knock. He’d been almost asleep. _Liar._ If by asleep he means alternating between hating himself for destroying his family and cursing himself for destroying the galaxy. Which he usually does. He checks the peephole.

_Holy shit._

God, she looks nervous. And gorgeous. And exhausted, not to mention wounded. All more things he curses himself about.

Knock, knock.

Jack glances down at the door threshold, though he remembers there’s no gap to see inside.

_She’ll probably leave soon._ And that’s what he wants, right? He wants her to leave him. Alone. Forever.

So this is a terrible idea. The door squeaks.

 

“Good afternoon, Captain.”

Sam swallows dryly. “Good afternoon, Colonel.” This is by far the stupidest thing she’s done…since Monday.

Apparently that’s supposed to be natural pause in their conversation. “Something wrong?” Other than Jack not being nearly drunk enough for this.

“Wrong, sir?” She blinks. Back straight, eyes ten degrees above the horizon. Her heels click to attention.

“Is there a reason you’re standing in my doorway.” He elaborates to her forehead.

“Oh. I…You’re here.” Says the theoretical astrophysicist.

“Yeeess.”

This is going well. Sam forces herself to find his eyes. “I wanted to apologize. For yesterday.”

“Oh.” Not what he expected at 1345 on a Saturday afternoon. Jack’s not sure what he had, exactly. But he’s pretty sure he would’ve enjoyed it too much.

“Yes.” _This is the part where you apologize._ “I’m sorry. For accusing you of hiding from…the mission. I was way out of line.”

Technically, she’d accused him of running. He’s not about to forget that. _But not because she was out of line._ Which she was. And now she’s standing in the hallway of his airport motel.

Probably a bad place for him to stick his tongue down her throat.


	4. Manage to Take It

_Leave the captain the fuck alone._ Jack makes his jaw clinch and glares past her. “That all?”

God, _why_ had she thought this would work? “Actually,” yes. “No.”

_Good._ Bad. “What else?”

_Leave the colonel alone. _It’s pretty freaking clear that’s what he wants. “I just…” _wish you were as easy to hate as you were last year._ Though maybe she should stay; it’s getting easier again.

Jack waits on her, but he’s about three seconds away from slamming the door and doing something fucking stupid. The captain doesn’t speak. _Suck it up, Airman._ “Do you always apologize this much, Captain?”

Sam winces angrily.

Jack always did have poor separation between ‘suck it up’ and ‘spit it at them’.

“No. Sir.” But she’s about four seconds away from needing to apologize for insubordination again.

Jack thinks and then speaks. “Wasn’t sure why you would.” It’s a habit he really ought to get back into. _Or you could just show her you’re an asshole before you hurt her too._ That’s a better plan. _Or tell her about Charlie._ He white-knuckles the door.

Sam eyes his backpedal warily. _Stay or go._ She’s opting for go.

Jack steps back into his room. “Wanna come in?” _Say yes._ Or no. One of those answer is definitely better for him. _Screw what’s better for you, what’s better for her?_

“Thank you.” No. “Yes.” God, she is _terrible_ at this.

The captain steps forward too rigidly. Jack’s pretty sure that’s the company rather than the welts on her back.

He’s watching her too candidly. At some point Sam feels the ghost of the arm he’d put around her when she lost consciousness off-world. _He’d been doing his job._ Yeah, and now she’s _standing in his hotel room._ God, she’s spent six years deliberately not doing anything remotely like this with a superior officer. _So what’s so different now?_ She swallows.

Apparently this is another one of those not-awkward pauses in their conversation. Jack closes the door behind her. He probably shouldn’t’ve done that. “Beer?” Also that.

Sam steadfastly avoids his eyes and stares at the bed. And then immediately turns around. “Sorry?”

He hands her a bottle.

She manages to take it.

Jack chugs down his own swill. “What’s on your mind, Captain?”

Sam gulps hers. And almost chokes. God, that’s _terrible_.

Jack probably should’ve mentioned he buys the cheap stuff when he’s wallowing in self-loathing.


	5. Into the Empty Space

Sam sets down the bottle and manages to maintain her composure. “I was wondering what your problem was with me.”

_Huh?_ “What?” Jack really was aiming for something more eloquent than that.

She looks past him. “You don’t seem to like me very much, sir.”

Interesting interpretation. He manages to gesture honestly. “Why’d ya think that?”

She tries to hide her frown. “I know we didn’t actually meet until a few days ago, but you still don’t seem particularly intent on my work.” Sam’s aiming for nonchalance. She misses it by about a year.

Jack blinks. “We don’t have a problem, Captain.” See, he can do loaded statements too.

Sam tries to mask her disagreement. “Yes, sir.” _Leave_ _._ “Well, I should really go. Thank you for the beer.” She doesn’t touch it again.

God, what the heck does she think he did at Project Giza? _Screw her over. That’s why she’s here, you numskull._ Jack should stop her. _Or let her go and stop fucking with the poor woman._

Jack’s door squeaks as it opens.

He’s not sure which option is easier to live with. It’s a tall order lately. _Screw easier. Pin your fucking eagles on._ “Captain!”

She pauses obediently in his doorway.

He breathes. “You’re an excellent officer.”

Sam waits. And adds a belated, “Thank you.”

“You did a great job with your lab.” Beat. “And your team.”

_And he’d know that how exactly?_ “Thank you.”

Jack takes a step towards her. There are only maybe four left. “I’m sorry I ended up with the first mission.” For both their sakes.

“Yes, sir.” Sam should probably read more into that admission than she is, but it’s really not enough for her at this point. _From the guy that outranks you by about fifteen years._

“It wasn’t your kind of mission,” he pushes.

_Because running it as his kind of mission went so damn well._ Let’s ask the people it’s killed so far. “Yes. Sir.”

Jack doesn’t sigh out loud. She’s pushing it.

Sam forces a trace more subordination. Not that he gives a damn about his subordinates. “If that’s all, sir.”

He forces a nod. Apparently that’s all.

Sam stops cold on the far side of his door. She needs to know.

“…Captain?” Jack eyes her carefully. He can’t tell who’s the shit and who’s the fan.

“Do you even know their names?”

It’s barely a whisper, but it almost knocks him cold. _Sha’re, Skaara. Sara. Charlie._ But why would she? “Sam?” He shakes a just little. _Tell her about Charlie._

_It took him a year to learn that name._ She closes her eyes and pushes off of his doorway.

Jack flinches into the empty space. “Airman Nahar!” There’s a rasp in his whisper. Jack can still see the body, the burnt hole in a young man’s side.

Sam stops.

“Airman Nahar, Airman Fryette, Airman Rahon, Staff Sergeant McAtee. Airman Weterings.” Jack finds her eyes. They’re wet. “Her husband’s name is David. He’s staying at the Lodge with their son Patrick.”

Sam can’t move. She’s sniffed twice by the time he reaches her.

Jack lets his arm rise of its own volition. She doesn’t say a word until they’re sitting back on the foot of his bed.

“He’s ten months old.”


	6. Could Have Been

Jack lets his head hang beside Sam’s quietly. “It’s not your fault.”

_No, it’s_ _your __fault, Colonel._ She sniffs again. “Yes, sir.”

Jack can feel the accusation in that, but he’s willing to shoulder it if it helps her. So much for salvaging what could have been of this relationship.

Sam digs her fingers into the bed and clamps her mouth shut. It  _is_ his fault. _How do you_ _live_ _with yourself?_ She wants to slap him. He doesn’t _get_ it. “I just…” She fades off in a choke.

“I know it’s hard.” But Jack can’t not look at her.

_‘Hard?’_ They’re _dead_ , dammit. Her head shakes. “I was supposed to be there.” She _let_ them die. She let them play poker in the Gate Room and wait to be slaughtered.

“Sam…” Jack can almost see the weight on her sagging shoulders. “You were designated to lead a clandestine recon team.” He chooses his words. “Not stave off a foreign infiltration.”

Her teeth grit. Though that’s true. Force protection should’ve been  _his_ responsibility. God, she _cannot_ let him make her feel this bad. “I’m trained to figure things out, sir. I’m trained to protect my people.” It might be more pointed if she weren’t shaking.

Jack winces internally. He feels the airmen’s deaths of course, but it certainly wasn’t his call. “It wasn’t your responsibility.”

_No, it was_ _your __responsibility._ “Yes, sir.” Beat. “I could’ve done better.” _Did you just tell a full colonel he needlessly killed four airmen?_

Jack grits his teeth quietly. “It’s not your job. You’t not even trained in counter-infil combat.” Dammit, if she’s going to blame him, blame him and move the fuck on _._ He’s had plenty worse recently.

Sam swallows and whitens her knuckles. _Why_ _are you sitting next to this jerk?_ “I know, sir.” Jackass. Except that he’s right. “I’d never put my own desires above someone else’s life, Colonel.”

Jack watches her wince back from passive-aggressiveness. This is bullshit, with anyone else he would’ve lost his temper by now. “I _know_ , Captain.” As it is, Jack’s about an inch from busting her down and a foot from hugging her senseless. He breathes. “You would’ve done well as a recon team lead.” _Right, like maybe she would’ve figured out nuking Ra could start a power struggle that comes to Earth in_ _motherships_ _? Maybe she would’ve found the fucking cartouche?_

Sam blinks at the colonel’s knee. “I…thank you.”

Great, finally. Now he should throw her out. She’s warm next to him.

Sam pinches her eyes closed. He really is just going to sit here like this. _You both are. You’re both going to sit here on the foot of a motel bed while that innocent woman is probably being repeatedly tortured to death by an egomaniacal alien god-king._ Her teeth scrape together.

That’s a sob. Jack’s stomach clinches. He’s useless with crying women. “Sam…” He trails off and lets her shake beside him.

Sam chokes down the tears and tries to stop shaking. _Get it together, dammit._ His hand is still on her back.

Jack clamps his mouth shut. She really does just need to leave. There’s got to be someonebetter for this than him. _Yeah, basically anyone._

She doesn’t move.

Which makes sense, really. Where’s his captain going to go? Jack’s a full colonel with a wounded subordinate who’s crying about the cold-blooded murder of four young airmen by a fake alien god. Of course he can’t kick her out.

Sam’s voice cracks back to life. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m out of line.”

Jack manages to shrug. That’s for later, if anything. He spent twenty years handling too many subordinates that shouldered far too much guilt. He’ll stick it out.

Sam swallows hard. “I should really get going.”

Or not. “Right.” It’s quiet, but Jack sits up straight. _Stay._ “Let me call you a taxi.”

Sam blinks and tries to bring herself back. “I, err…” _Wake up, dammit._ “I took my bike, sir.”

His brow furrows. “You can’t ride like this.”

She sniffs quickly. “I’ll be fine, sir.”

Jack stops by the phone. He may give up too easily now, but he’s really not okay with her definition of ‘fine’. “It’s snowing, Captain.” He studies her professionally. “How well have you slept since we got back?”

Sam balks under the colonel’s scrutiny. “It’s not a problem, sir.” Beat. “But thank you.” It is sort of sweet, in an aggravating way. _No, he’s just condescending._ Except that he’s not.

Jack manages a little more persuasion. “I’ll drive you.”

Sam blinks. “Sir, I can take a taxi.”

She’s caving. Jack drags his remaining persuasion to the door. “I have to go in anyway. We’ll tie the bike down on my rental.” That sounds compelling.

Except that she’s not moving.

He turns around. No, she’s just kind of staring at him. From his bed. “Well come on, Captain.”

Sam swallows. God, what is she doing? _What’re you doing, what is_ _he_ _doing?_ Arrogant jerk. Weirdly considerate, overbearing jerk.


	7. At Least He’s Learning

This was a terrible idea. “So.” Jack doesn’t look at her.

“Yes?” Sam stifles a frozen yawn.

“This your bike?” _You mean the only motorcycle in the lot that has exactly four cars in it? No, of course not._

“No, sir.”

Oh. Huh?

Sam swallows. “Borrowed it from a friend at Fort Carson. The tank’s got a leak I need to fix.”

“Ah.” Jack’s hoping his nod doesn’t actually say ‘I’m trying too hard to look normal to actually follow what you’re saying’.

Sam nods. “…That your truck?”

“Rental.”

_Why_ _did you agree to this?_ “Right. So…”

He blinks. “Right.” Jack grabs the other side of her bike. She doesn’t wince much moving it, which is impressive considering the kind of bandages she must be sporting. “I gotcha.” He says from the truck.

Sam hops in the bed behind him. “It’s not a one-person job, sir.” Though her shoulders certainly aren’t looking forward to this. Sam tugs her jacket more tightly around the one set of civvies she’d had when they pulled her out of the Pentagon. God, that was almost a week ago.

Jack glances at her. She definitely hasn’t forgiven him. On the other hand, he’d recently lost her in an ambush, let her get captured, beaten, and strip searched, and then run her into the ground for two days making her get them off some godforsaken planet. Oh, and then electrocuted her, bit her hand, shoved her through a ravine, and hurled her unconscious body across the galaxy. _Would you let me tie down your freaking bike?_

He hands her a fastening strap.

She takes it.

Well, at least he’s learning.


	8. Pretending It Is

They’re pretty efficient about it, all told. And by ‘all told’, Jack means that they each kind of hate each other and they’ve both got stitches. And he doesn’t sleep anymore and tends to eat mostly cheap beer. Yeah, they’re pretty good together.  _Shut up, idiot._

Sam defrosts her fingers as the colonel starts up the engine. God, she  _hurts. You should’ve let him handle the bike._ Yeah, and probably never have heard the end of it. Though the colonel had been rather discreet in doing whatever he thought he could get away with for her. And he hasn’t mentioned it. Yet. The bike or her crying on his bedspread.

Jack quickly flicks off the radio as it starts up.

_Opera?_ Was that French?

He glances towards her. No comment on that, apparently. Phew. “So, whatcha doing?”

She blinks the sleep from her eyes. “Sorry?”

“Whaddaya need to do today?” Jack tries to ask just as lightly.

“Oh. Mostly technical intelligence reports. The rest of my mission files. Lots of task prioritizations.” Sam swallows. “Some budget drafts.” As if anyone’s about to give her more money. Just call her Captain ‘they had to fix her last project with a nuclear bomb’ Carter.  _Thanks entirely to the jerk sitting next to you._ God, what is she  _doing_?

Jack nods. “Good times.”

Sam swallows. “You, sir?”

He wasn’t sure she’d ask. “Mostly force and capabilities requests.”

“Oh.” He’s doing strategic-level work? “I didn’t realize you were…” still being listened to. By anyone.

“Competent?” Jack pokes, downshifting for a stop light. It’s going to be a long drive.

Sam gulps. “No! Uh, just…writing.” Something important. About anything. The Air Force colonel that can’t look at an alien military’s mothership and realize ‘oh, maybe they’re still geared towards fighting  _other really dangerous aliens_ ’. She sighs accidentally.

Jack glances at her. So much for turning that page. “I’m retiring from command, Captain. I’m not leaving the war effort.” Yet. Which of course she would’ve known, but clearly they don’t communicate very well.

“Yes, sir.” And she got upset about this yesterday why?

“You’re welcome.” He says it a little too sardonically. Jack knows he’s actually excellent at his job, and he’s got plenty of practice ignoring doubters.  _Except that she’s got a right to be cynical._ Needless to say ‘okay, I’ll nuke the Sun God and see what happens’ isn’t the highlight of his rather controversial career.

Sam nods silently and starts considering whether to feign sleep. It takes her a while.

The captain’s floating somewhere between real and fake exhaustion. Jack drums on the steering wheel until she shoots it an accidental death glare.

Sam sucks in a breath. “So…opera?”

He finds what passes for a casual glance. “Don’t like it?”

“No, just…not a big music person, I guess.” She shrugs painfully.

So much for ‘what do you like’. Jack manages not to start drumming on the wheel again.

“Thanks for the ride.” She realizes suddenly.

“No problem.” Jack looks over. “Part of the job.”

Right. Job. Not a favor. Too bad Sam’s supremely unpracticed at uncomfortable small talk. God, this was a terrible idea.

Jack has to stop looking at her. “What’s your call sign?” he tries blindly.

“Sorry?”

“Pave Low helicopters in the Gulf, right?” He lets her nod. “What’s your call sign?”

Sam winces. “Why?”

“Because silences are awkward.” He creeps forward through the strengthening snow.

Oh. Well, true. “‘Fox’.”

God, he’d walked right into that. “Ah. That’s…” Far too accurate a description. “Kind of condescending.”

Sam’s eyes snap to his head. Wow. “Um, yeah.”

He manages a breath. “It must be annoying.”

She nods into her lap before forcing her gaze back on the road. “I can handle it.”

Jack cocks a genuine smile. “I know.”

Another wow. He’s…what? Nice?  _Cute?_ Nice. Nice for a galaxy-nuking, program-destroying numskull CO.  _He took over Giza without meeting anyone and then destroyed it. _Also without meeting anyone. It’s not that hard to remember.

“And you tie down a mean bike.” Jack adds it lightly, but he can almost see her fighting herself. He nods to his own conversation. “It was good work in the Gulf.”

Sam blinks back into the dialogue. “Thank you.”

“Flew in one of your upgraded units. Nice.” Jack really hopes that sounds like ‘I took an orientation flight as a squadron commander’ rather than ‘someone left me behind in a Forward Base attack and I spent six months in an Iraqi prison’.

“Thanks.” Sam’s really having trouble processing the sudden flattery.

He stays conversational. “Your whole career has been good work, Sam.”

God, is  _that_ what this is about? He’s going to back away from smoking hole he left in her career? “Thanks. Sir.” Fat chance.

The clip in her voice almost slaps him. Eh, worth a shot.

So that tone might’ve been pushing it. Again. “Thank you, sir.” Sam reaches down and clicks on his radio. Still opera; she doesn’t change it.

Jack’s lip tugs upward at the peace offering. At least, that’s what he’s pretending it is.

Sam lets her head bob for a few verses. “Is this German?”

He smiles. “Yeah. You understand it?”

“Not really. My German is essentially useless.” Sam squints into the blinding snow.

Jack nods. “Teenager at Ramstein Air Base level.”

_Oh jeez._ “You know, don’t you?”

He keeps his smile light. “Yeah.”

Sam gulps. “Colonel, I would really appreciate it if…”

Oh, right. “No problem.” ‘Fox’ probably goes through enough without broadcasting that she’s a two-star general’s daughter.

“Thank you, sir.” It’s genuine.

Jack likes genuine. He can roll with that. “The general’s an interesting guy.”

Sam’s eyebrows get away from her. “You, uh. You probably know more about his career than I do.”

He gives her a look.

Sam shrugs. “Dad’s not a very talkative guy. To me, at least.”  _You sound pathetic._ “He’s good, though. Excellent attaché.” She’s rambling.

Jack nods to the ramble in what he hopes is encouragement.

“And he’s more of an diplomat than I could ever be.” Sam fidgets with her jacket.  _What the hell, Sam?_ “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m…” She forces herself to trail off.

Jack smiles. “Because silences are awkward.”

She pushes out a breath. “I’m sure you know it all already.”

He checks her peripherally. Even the classified file doesn’t have  _that_  much. “I liked your sixteenth birthday cake recipe.” He’s deadpan.

“I didn’t get a cake for my sixteenth…”  _What_ _are you doing?_  “My brother’s gluten-intolerant.” Much better.

“Mark’s not gluten-intolerant.”

Sam winces her eyes closed.  _Holy damn._

Jack glances over worriedly. “Guess—joke, Sam.” Blue eyes snap to their road directly ahead. “That was a guess,” he reiterates. Someone must’ve been dogging the general’s daughter pretty hard.

“Sorry.”

He smiles a little. “Quite all right.”  _Stop drumming on the damn wheel._ He squeezes it instead. “You get any sleep?”

Sam freezes. “I’m fine.” She did, actually, but half her consciousness is still up all night in a Chulak Jaffa camp.

Jack doesn’t sigh. “You could sleep now.” He tries to voice it more helpfully than wearily. “We’ve still got almost an hour in this mess.” And God, she is exhausting.  _Maybe you should've talked someone more engaging than the delivery guy at some point in the last year._ Like a woman.  _Like this woman?_

Sam’s eyelids seem to appreciate the colonel’s suggestion more than she does.

Somehow Jack manages to shut up and let her eyelids win.


	9. And the Door Opens

Jack looks over at the dozing captain once he pulls into the closest spot he can find. He lets the truck idle. It’s freezing, and he’s loathe to wake her up.

She looks… well, he’s been managing not to think on that too much. Actually, she looks about as uncomfortable as you can get sleeping in a ’91 Ford, which is pretty damn uncomfortable. Jack sighs and opens the door to the rental that’s twice as nice as his own rust bucket. He’ll move the bike without her.

In the end it takes another airman’s help in the biting cold, and Jack’s pretty much frozen solid by the time he finally takes the key from the ignition. He hates Colorado. Their ruckus hasn’t woken her up, but the captain’s blinking to life once he opens her door. It squeaks.

“Colonel?”

He cocks her a wintery smile. “Heya, Captain.” In retrospect, Jack probably shouldn’t’ve learned what she looks like waking up.

Sam blinks. She’s in a pickup truck. Why would he…? She stumbles out painfully and finds the Cheyenne Mountain sign. Damn Colorado weather.

Jack grabs her before she face plants, which in retrospect he doesn’t need to. That’s probably a bigger error than he’s willing to consider. He keeps his arm raised.

“Thank you for the ride, sir.” Sam adjusts her jacket and looks for her bike. Didn’t they…?

Jack gestures to where he put it and tries to look patient-while-freezing. His arm ends up half-guiding her to the door.

“Sorry, sir. I guess I’m…” Sam tries and fails not to yawn. “Thanks.”

_“Gerne geschehen.”_ Jack nails his charming grin. He can show off sometimes.

Sam blinks. _Of course he knows German, you idiot._ And no doubt more than that; he’s a special ops colonel. With a little snow in his hair. _Wake up, dammit. _God, she must be a lunatic. The snow in his hair is melting.

Jack could definitely get behind whatever look she’s giving him right now.

Sam shivers a little too violently. She’s a professional Air Force officer, for heaven’s sake. She forces her eyes off him. “And I apologize for my earlier…reaction.” Shiver. “Reactions.” Because she really is more professional than to yell at and then break down on a commanding officer. The same commanding officer, in the same twenty-four hours. Except for this one, apparently. You know, the CO that can’t spot a complicated galaxy from an alien mothership and doesn’t give a damn about anyone who works for him. _Except that he does._ Sam looks over his arm at her bike.

Jack finds a nonchalant shrug. “You just went through a lot, Captain.” He watches her stiffen. “If that’s all the reaction you need, more power to you.” But somehow he doubts it is.

Sam tries not to retort to the resounding pity in his voice. She’s not doing that badly. _He’s probably got six years on tactical missions. _She’s just new to this. It’s not about her gender, or her degree. It’s really not.

Jack’s getting to know that squirm too well. “You’re new at this, Captain.”

_See? I told you._

He quirks a fake smile. “You get used to it.” In a terrible, sickening, the-human-mind-gets-used-to-anything way. Jack has no desire for her mind do that. _Then maybe you shouldn’t’ve started an interstellar war._

She swallows and takes out her ID for the guards.

 

Sam watches the first level tick by on the elevator’s panel. The colonel looks every inch relaxed, and it’s starting to drive her crazy again. She’s never been very good at rapport-building. Breaking is easier. Avionics engineering and wormhole physics are easier. People are far more trying. And some are complete jerks. She glances again at the colonel. _And some aren’t._ Some of them screw over their subordinates and have zero strategic foresight despite twenty years in special ops. _And some of them let captains cry on their shoulders and leads ad hoc crews through alien combat two thousand light years away and back._

Jack manages to keep up his casual posture. The captain’s getting more jittery. He starts humming lightly. Auber’s _‘La muette de Portici’._

She swallows. “Here.” Sam says it quickly and holds out the envelope. It’s just an obligatory custom, the way the others did. She can be a good subordinate. _Besides the yelling and the sobbing?_

Jack’s eyebrows jump unexpectedly high before he reaches out.

Okay, maybe it’s not obligatory. Maybe she shouldn’t’ve done that. Except that she should’ve. “It’s…” Sam mimics opening it. Because clearly the colonel made it through four headquarters assignments without knowing how to open an unsealed envelope. She drops her hands.

Jack opens it. _Whoa._ “Captain…”

Sam starts rushing. “I know Lou and—Majors Kawalsky and Ferretti got you something for retiring.” And if she hadn’t debated her own alternatives so long, she probably wouldn’t’ve fallen asleep in his truck.

Jack looks up thoughtfully. “This is too much.” By about ten thousand percent, even if she’d known him as long as Lou. And liked him.

“It’s not, sir.” Sam tries to slow down her gesturing. “Well, if you hawked it…you really can’t hawk it.” She resets her posture. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” _You sound like a jewel thief._

Jack really wishes he hadn’t discovered she looks this hot when she’s flustered.

Sam forces a breath. “The real invitation is at the planetarium.” She forces herself to find his eyes. Probably a mistake. “It’s not a big deal, sir. I’ve worked with Taylor a lot; I explained who you were.” Except not at all. “They were happy to do it.” It’s really just a formal gift. He saved her life; she’d gotten upset at his retiring. Sam doesn’t need this to assuage the conflicted feelings she doesn’t have. She can’t tell if it’s harder to look away or towards him.

Jack prefers towards. “Thank you.” Which sounds rather pathetic in return for a ten-thousand-dollar VIP membership to the Air and Space Museum from a woman that ostensibly dislikes him, but in his defense he doesn’t talk much.

Sam finally loses his eyes. “I know that D.C. can be a little—”

“Boring.” He adds with her.

“Boring, very boring.” She bounces slightly. He already is. “I like it there. They have a great observatory up in the…” Sam pushes out a laugh. “But I probably don’t need to tell you that.”

She doesn’t, and yet he kind of wishes she would. “It’s very thoughtful, Captain, thank you.”

Sam bobbles yet another nod into the elevator panel. “If you ever need a tour guide—” _Did you just…?_ “I mean, I’m sure they’d give you a tour guide. Not that you’d need a tour guide, Colonel.”

Part of Jack briefly admits to liking the first option best. “Thanks.” _Date me._

The elevator dings, and the door opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein ends _Hit the Sky_! Next up is actually forming SG-1, which will be compliant-ish with both this and canon. It’ll asymptotically approach strict canon, though personally I see it less as AU and more that the TV show abridges its own craziness.


End file.
